


only other lonely soul

by madnessiseverything



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Comfort, Hugs, Panic Attacks, Pre-Relationship, Spoilers for Season 3, i got emotional about these two and wrote all of this this evening, just one but i realised i should probably tag for it, tim and martin and the big almost
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2019-09-29
Packaged: 2020-11-07 16:50:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20820611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madnessiseverything/pseuds/madnessiseverything
Summary: “We should get back inside,” Martin mumbles and Tim tightens his hold on him.“Let a man enjoy your hugs, Martin.”or five times Tim hugged Martin and the one time Martin hugged Tim.





	only other lonely soul

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lesbiagnes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lesbiagnes/gifts).

> listen yall when i get emo about tim and martin i apparently speed write almost 3k of them hugging while crying. i hope you enjoy this. special thanks to louis for making a tweet about martin coming out to tim and getting me to write my first tma fic above 1k
> 
> title from "party of one" by brandi carlile

1\. 

Martin stares into the hot chocolate Rosie pushed into his hand twenty minutes ago and suppresses a sigh. He came here to feel better, he scolds himself. But Hannah has been rambling about her family for several minutes now and Martin can’t help but think about why he was late to the party.  
  
He fights to keep the scowl off of his face and instead takes a sip of the drink to hide his face briefly. Neither Hannah nor Frank seem to notice and he breathes out. He makes an effort to straighten his shoulders. No use slumping over even further.  
  
“Hey guys,” a familiar voice loudly announces off to Martin’s right and Martin startles as he is pulled into Tim’s side as a greeting. Tim throws him a look that is both a question and an apology and Martin relaxes, let’s himself lean into Tim. Just for a second, he thinks.  
  
He makes an effort to keep track of the conversation after that. He doesn’t want to worry anybody. Tim’s sidelong glances show him that it’s not working and not before long Tim manages to excuse both of them from the heated debate over tv programs.  
  
Martin doesn’t protest when Tim leads him to one of the quieter corners. He soaks in the comforting weight of Tim’s hand on his shoulder blade, knowing that Tim is going to ask questions Martin would rather not answer.  
  
“Hey,” Tim asks, now in front of him, a gentle smile on his face. “You good?”  
  
Martin nods half-heartedly and is about to open his mouth to dismiss the concern when Tim nods in return and asks another question. “Can I hug you?”  
  
Martin stops short. He wants to wave Tim off, to ask him to go back and enjoy himself with their colleagues. But he thinks over the way it had felt to lean into Tim earlier and nods before he can stop himself. Tim’s smile brightens and then Martin is wrapped up tight, his face pressed into Tim’s shoulder. Tim smells like cinnamon and cider and Martin tries hard not to cry.  
  
“Thank you,” he mumbles after a while and Tim pats his back, adjusts his grip.  
  
“Anytime, mate.”

xxx

2\. 

Tim is pleasantly buzzed, the pub around them full of people escaping the rain. Sasha is getting up, her brows furrowed as she glances at the water hitting the window.  
  
“You sure you want to go out into that weather?” Martin asks, fingers tapping against the glass in front of him. His face is flushed from warmth and alcohol and Tim is glad that he managed to convince him to come out. A promotion drink, he’d called it. Sasha pulls on her jacket and sighs  
  
“Yeah, my cousin is waiting.” Sasha grabs her small umbrella and smiles down at the two of them. “This was lovely, though. I’m glad we’ll be seeing more of each other from now on.”  
  
Tim grins. Martin gets up and Sasha raises her brows. “I- we’ll see you out.” Tim glances back at the door that is mere meters away from their table, but Sasha smiles brightly and Tim is on his feet before he can make a quip. He nods to one of the other patrons, inclining his head towards their table and receives a nod in turn.  
  
Martin is already at the door, opening it for Sasha, who giggles and bumps her shoulder against his. “Thank you.”  
  
Martin’s flush is even more noticeable in the bright streetlight outside of the pub. Sasha pulls Tim into a side hug and thanks him for the invite. Martin leans into her goodbye and then Sasha is opening her umbrella and running off to where her rental is sitting on the side of the road.  
  
Tim watches Martin watch Sasha climb into her car and smiles. Martin had been anxious about their promotion to archival assistants, stammering more than usual and looking like he thought he might be booted out the door any second.  
  
Tim is glad that his idea of celebrating together seems to have worked. Martin’s shoulders are less tense, and there is a soft smile on his face as Sasha drives off. Tim knocks his arm into Martin’s and he gives off a startled laugh. He half-heartedly punches Tim’s shoulder and Tim thinks he’ll love working more closely with Martin. Sure, the man is insecure and shy, but Tim enjoys his company.  
  
Martin is now looking at him with contemplation and Tim watches his hands twitch. Tim grins and opens his arms. “Celebratory hug?” He asks and Martin laughs and falls into Tim. He hooks his chin over Tim’s shoulder and Tim mentally congratulates himself on the genius idea of getting some drinks into Martin.  
  
“We should get back inside,” Martin mumbles and Tim tightens his hold on him.  
  
“Let a man enjoy your hugs, Martin.”  
  
Martin huffs and squeezes his arms around Tim’s chest. “Thank you.”  
  
“Anytime."

xxx

3.

Martin distantly thinks that his breathing isn’t healthy, that the way his chest is constricting doesn’t help. But the reality of the past two weeks is crashing down on him and he is standing in the storage room in front of a cot that Jon awkwardly tidied up before excusing himself, and Martin thinks he should sit down.  
  
His legs still burn from his sprint to the Institute and he is so unbelievably tired. But he can’t get himself to move.  
  
“Martin?” Tim’s voice is filled with concern and oh god, Martin thinks. He doesn’t want Tim to see him like this. He opens his mouth to tell him that it’s okay, that he can go back to work. All that leaves him is a dry sob.  
  
Tim is in front of him in seconds, dark eyes looking into Martin’s with open concern. His hands are hovering over Martin’s arms and he doesn’t know if he wants him to touch or stay as far away as possible.  
  
“Hey, hey, Martin, breathe.” He can’t look Tim in the eyes anymore, drops his gaze to where his right hand is moving from Martin’s arm to his own chest. “Watch- Martin it’s okay. Breathe.”  
  
There is a stabbing pain in Martin’s chest and he is terrified. His hand flails and finds Tim’s and he holds on tight. Tim is counting and Martin wonders how he can speak so easily. His vision is blurry, but he watches Tim’s hand rise and fall with his breath and he doesn’t want to die now, not after surviving for so long.  
  
It takes a while before his breath leaves him without stuttering again, before his chest stops spasming with exertion. His legs are shaking and Tim moves from where he had sat down on the cot to make space.  
  
Martin sits down and runs his hands over his face. An embarrassed laugh pushes past his lips. Tim’s hand settles on his back and Martin forces down the urge to cry. “I’m sorry.”  
  
Tim frowns, runs his hand up and down his back. “Don’t be, Martin. You went through hell, Jon told me.” Martin doesn’t like the shadow of guilt that passes over Tim’s face. “The least we can do is help you deal with the aftermath.”  
  
“You don’t- Tim, I-” Martin cuts himself off and digs his fingers into his forehead. He doesn’t know what to do with himself. “I just-”  
  
“Can I hug you?”  
  
Martin looks up to find Tim closer again, lips set in a determined line. He feels the tears coming and barely manages a quiet “please” before he hides his face in Tim’s chest and starts sobbing.  
  
Tim curls around him, arms across his back and torso. His chin rests against Martin’s temple and Martin knows that the shaking in his body isn’t just the fear of two weeks pulling at his every seam. Tim is warm and solid against him and Martin’s tears are those of relief.  
  
Tim pulls him closer and presses a kiss against his temple. “You’re okay.” Martin only cries harder and fists his hands in Tim’s jacket. “You’re safe here.”  
  
Martin believes him.   
  
xxx  
  
4.

Tim aches. The painkillers have started wearing off and he’s still not out of the Institute. Instead, he is staring down at his desk and waiting for Martin to get out of Jon’s office.  
  
He had meant to go home, he really did. But something about the glances Martin shot him before pushing past Sasha into Jon’s office has kept him here. He just has to talk to Martin, then he can go and sleep for a week.  
  
The bandages are just short of too tight when he leans against his desk with a sigh. He feels like a mummy.  
  
Across from him, Jon’s office door opens and Martin shuffles out, wiping furiously at his eyes, huffing to himself. Against his better judgement, Tim pushes off the desk and starts moving towards him, a spark of fury in his chest at Jon pushing Martin this far.  
  
“Hey,” he says and it comes out more tired than he hoped. Martin flinches and looks up, eyes wide.  
  
“T-Tim! What are you still doing here?” He takes a few steps to meet Tim, eyes drifting over the bandages. “You should be in bed!”  
  
“I wanted to make sure you’re holding up alright.”  
  
Martin’s eyes shine, but his face becomes carefully blank. Tim hates it. Martin smiles and Tim hates it even more.  
  
“M-me? I’m good! Not a-a scratch, you know?” His voice cracks and Tim says screw it to his pain and pulls Martin in for a hug. Martin let’s out a surprised noise, arms fluttering for space to rest without irritating any wounds.  
  
Tim wants to say so many things. He wants to thank Martin for running when he did, for bringing himself into safety. He wants to tell him that it’s okay that he left them behind. He wants to tell him that it’s okay to not be okay after finding the corpse of Gertrude Robinson and fuck, if that isn’t something that will haunt Tim for a while.  
  
Instead, he closes his eyes, buries his face in Martin’s shoulder, and breathes in. “I’m glad you’re alive,” he whispers and Martin’s hands come to rest on his back gently. Martin inhales sharply.  
  
“I-I’m glad you’re alive, too.” Martin’s voice wavers. “I’m sorry.”  
  
“Don’t be. Nothing to be sorry for.” The noise that leaves Martin tells Tim that he doesn’t believe him, but he doesn’t protest and Tim holds on. They’re alive, he thinks. They survived hell- Martin for the second time. They deserve to breathe in each other for a second.  
  
He presses a kiss to Martin’s cheek when he pulls away after what must have been several minutes. Martin’s eyes are filled with tears, but he looks back at Tim with determination. “You need to rest,” he says and Tim laughs.  
  
“I really do.”   
  
xxx

5.

Martin’s vision is swimming with impossible patterns and his head feels like it might split apart at any moment. So it doesn’t surprise him when Tim spots it first.  
  
“There!” Martin spins too fast to follow Tim’s pointed finger and falls against a wall, legs giving out underneath him. His eyes find a door that doesn’t fit the hallways. The door to the storage room, he thinks, questions, shakes his head.  
  
Tim’s hands haul him off the floor without ceremony and start pulling him towards it. Martin wants to stop, to remind Tim what happened the last few times they opened a door. But he hasn’t heard the horrible laugh in a while, and he really wants to go home. Tim’s grip on his wrist is tight and Martin clings on in return. He doesn’t want them to get separated, not here.  
  
Tim twists the doorknob and flings the door open, rushing through before Martin so much as caught a glimpse at what lay beyond. His feet hit solid, carpet free floor. His vision blurs and he clings to Tim’s arm when his legs start shaking again. The world around them feels different, steadier.  
  
“We did it,” Tim says, voice cracking, and then Martin finds himself wrapped up in a bruising hug. He freezes, briefly thinking about Tim’s angry words and hands keeping Martin at arm's length. Then he crumbles and hugs back just as tight. The world stops spinning and Martin breathes, waits for his body to recover.  
  
His vision comes back gradually. They’re standing outside of the storage room, amidst the shelves leading towards the offices. Martin can’t believe it and laughs, a little hysterically.  
  
“We made it,” he responds belatedly and Tim huffs a laugh against his neck, fingers resting against the back of Martin’s head. Martin closes his eyes, lets his equilibrium return properly with the help of Tim’s hands as a grounding force. God, his head hurts. Tim’s hands shake against his back and Martin’s legs still feel like they might give out at any moment.  
  
But they got out. Martin misses Tim hugging him. They should rectify their recent distance, Martin thinks. Once they figure things out, he should ask Tim to go out for drinks with him, like they used to.

xxx

+1.

Tim feels calm, when he goes to walk out the Institute before the Unknowing. There is the rage, the bitterness, burning away at his insides, pushing his steps to be heavier than necessary. There is the itching feeling to grab that axe and practice his swing, maybe damage some precious Institute property. But he feels calm, ready.  
  
The others hide their apprehension with varying degrees of success. Basira is flipping through brochure of the House of Wax, her tapping foot the only thing giving away anything other than calm. Tim thinks it’s just impatience for her.  
  
Daisy is loading the trunk of her car, slamming with more force than strictly necessary. Tim approves. Her eyes slip over to Jon and Basira from time to time. Her glances at Jon are filled with rage, while worry flits over her face whenever she looks at Basira. Tim wonders if she is even aware that she has become this transparent.  
  
Melanie is leaned against the railing going up the steps to the Institute, arms crossed and lips pressed into a thin line. Her eyes flick back and forth between the car and the Institute like she thinks she might still be able to join them on their trip. But Tim knows she won’t.  
  
Tim doesn’t look at Jon for too long, sure that if he looks close enough, he will start yelling again. All he notes is that Jon looks tired.  
  
Martin is standing one step above them all, fidgeting with his hands. His mouth keeps opening as if to break the uneasy silence, but every time it closes just as quickly. His eyes don’t flit about as much as Tim would have expected. They don’t wander to the car or the Institute behind him. Instead, Tim finds Martin’s eyes lingering on Jon and him. Tim doesn’t mention it.  
  
“Right,” Daisy announces suddenly and Tim feels Martin’s flinch more than he sees it. Basira closes the brochure. “Time to go.” Without another glance back, Daisy climbs into the driver’s seat. Basira reaches out to touch Melanie’s shoulder and gives a curt nod to Martin before getting into the passenger seat.  
  
“Well,” Jon says, hovering next to the open backseat door. Tim shoves his hands deep into his pockets. “Off we are.”  
  
“Yeah,” Tim agrees. Melanie shifts on her feet. Martin gives off a soft noise.  
  
“S-stay safe, okay?” Tim swallows down the scoff and turns to look at Martin. He has stopped fidgeting, his hands hanging by his side instead. His eyes are shining but he is standing straight. Tim’s lips twitch. He almost wishes he would be there to watch the show.  
  
“We’ll try,” Jon responds softly. Martin nods, steps down to be at their level.  
  
“You better.” His eyes meet Tim’s and Tim inclines his head. He doesn’t voice any of his thoughts. Martin wouldn’t accept any of them.  
  
Martin smiles weakly and steps closer. Before Tim can register anymore movement, Martin’s arms are wrapped around his shoulders and his nose is bumping against Martin’s jaw. He exhales and hugs him back.  
  
“See you soon,” Martin whispers, hugs a little tighter. Tim allows himself to breathe in and relax his shoulders. He can feel Martin’s smile widening. He thinks about the way Martin’s eyes are probably just that little bit brighter now, how he might be scrunching his nose slightly. Tim hides his face, catalogues the way Martin’s hand runs through his hair briefly.  
  
“Yeah.” Tim almost wishes he wasn’t lying. Instead, he just closes his eyes and breathes. 

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me on [tumblr](https://extinctioniscoming.tumblr.com) and on [twitter](https://twitter.com/notanycritter). feel free to come yell at me and cry about these two.


End file.
